The Brigadier's Daughter

by Catherine March

  ‘Really? Might I ask why?’ It was difficult to speak through his clenched teeth.

  ‘Well, er, she thought we might be having difficulties in the bedroom, because I am still a virgin.’

  With a snort of contempt he tossed the book away. It landed in a far corner and then he turned and looked down at Sasha, now sitting on her knees, the tight black corset provocative and revealing, her legs in the fine black stockings extremely pleasing to his male eyes. Considering how long it had been since he had made love to a woman, he was as easily aroused as a flame to tinder.

  He leaned one knee on the edge of the bed and grasped a fistful of loose hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her gently towards him. Sasha looked up at him, her eyes wide, her mouth soft and pink. In a low voice he murmured, ‘I don’t think we need books.’ He lowered his head, hesitated, but he could not resist the temptation and the deep aching need to touch her with his lips, his fingers, with all parts of his body.

  Sasha felt the warm smooth caress of his lips on hers, and with a soft groan she reached up and slid her arms around his broad back, so that he lost his balance and they toppled together onto the bed. He rolled over her, his kiss deepening as his tongue outlined her lips in a slow sensuous movement, nudged at her teeth and then entered her mouth as she opened for him. His hands travelled down the length of her body, squeezing her buttocks clad in the briefest scrap of lace, and Sasha lifted her knee and stroked her stockinged leg along his thigh. Her fingers smoothed over the bulk of his shoulders, and he shrugged off his jacket, toeing off his shoes that fell to the floor with a clunk. The soft afternoon light shining through the voile curtains bathed them in an intimate glow.

  As he rolled over she entwined her arms around his neck and they writhed together on the bed, groaning, gasping, panting, his hands kneading and stroking her bottom, her thighs, his mouth kissing her shoulders and the swell of her bosom encased in the black corset.

  ‘Oh, God, Sasha, you are exquisite!’ he growled, his teeth nipping at her hips, his hand running along the smooth length of her black-silk-clad calf.

  The images she had seen in the book had already imprinted themselves on her mind and inflamed her senses. She looked at Reid with new eyes, sensual and inviting, and then she pushed at his shoulders and rolled him onto his back, straddling his hips as she ran her hands over his torso, pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, delighting in the feel of his chest hairs and muscles. She leaned back and closed her eyes, shaking her long hair and moving her hips in a tantalising sway. He groaned again, his fingers capturing her waist and encouraging her seductive movements. She opened her eyes then and looked down at him, leaning forwards so that her breasts tipped outwards in full mounds, and her eyes moved from the glory of his muscled chest to his male arousal, her fingers reaching out to boldly stroke him, feeling the hard bulk of him beneath the cloth of his grey trousers.

  It was almost more than he could bear and his own fingers worked on the hooks and lacings of her corset, eager to free her body. It took some moments, but at last the stiffly boned satin fell away and he stared at her rose-tipped breasts, small but shapely and full. He sat up, cradling her back with his arms, and reached for her nipple with his mouth. Sasha gave a small cry, arching back as his fingers stroked along her spine, her body awash with waves of burning pleasure as he pressed hot open-mouthed kisses to her breasts, her ribs, her waist, before clutching at her hair again and kissing her mouth with frenzied passion. But she was still attached by her corset to her stockings and now with shaking fingers she unclipped them, and Reid slid the stockings from her slender legs, his fingers making such a simple task one that aroused and excited her. Reid grasped her hips and rolled her over again, until this time she lay beneath him.

  ‘Sasha, Sasha,’ he groaned, his fingers sliding over her soft thighs, stroking gently, his need so urgent and yet the waiting only making it more intense, as he gasped for breath and drew back. ‘We must stop, not like this, we mustn’t.’

  Sasha gave a cry of frustrated desperation. ‘Oh, Reid, don’t stop, please, don’t stop, I want you so much!’ And she reached with one hand to tug away the final scrap of lace that was a barrier to their intimacy, spreading her legs and moving her hips against him.

  His mouth returned to hers as his fingers kneaded her breast and then slid down the smooth curve of her waist and hips and down between her thighs, until he lightly brushed her in the one place where she longed for him to touch her, gasping with soft little cries as his finger explored gently. He could feel how swollen and moist she was, her warm skin sheened with a dew of sweat, and he had no doubt that she wanted this as much as he did, but still he would not yield to madness. He had to protect Sasha, even from herself.

  ‘No, we must wait until we are married.’

  ‘Reid, please don’t be noble, not now. I will die if you don’t…do something.’ She did not know how to express the pulsating, urgent longing she felt inside her body, that she instinctively knew needed him, needed his body to satisfy it.

  He kissed the side of her neck, murmuring gently, ‘Sasha, it’s too risky. I can’t. But—’ his fingers stroked the soft skin of her inner thigh, moving upwards to the soft down of her maidenhair and silky folds, feeling how aroused she was ‘—I can satisfy you in other ways.’ He felt her quiver, her eager moans and the expression on her face arousing him even as his finger circled around her entrance, resisting the temptation to go any deeper into the hot, honeyed, virgin core of her.

  Sasha closed her eyes, thrusting back her head as her hips moved to take the mysterious joy he offered. Confused, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I will do for you what you once did for me.’ His fingers stroked delicately between her legs, his other hand caressing her breast, his lips nipping at hers, as he whispered soft words urging her to relax and enjoy the experience he was guiding her to.

  ‘But…it is—’ she struggled to speak between gasps of pleasure ‘—not fair.’

  ‘Why? Are you not enjoying this?’

  ‘Oh, I am, yes, yes, I am, but…it’s…selfish.’

  ‘No, I don’t mind.’ He kissed her neck with an amused smile. ‘I am disciplined enough to abstain.’

  ‘Oh, I wish you weren’t! I wish you would take off your clothes and—’

  He silenced her then, with his mouth, kissing her deeply, moving the focus of his finger’s attention higher up and finding her nub, swollen and throbbing. She gave a muffled cry at the feel of him touching her there, and he watched her face as she closed her eyes and shuddered, her hips lifting off the bed, her legs spread and then closing together to press against his hand, until he parted them, stroking faster but very gently, building an erotic rhythm of pleasure, wave building on wave, shudder on shudder, pressing harder as he sensed her reaching a peak, and then she burst into the final clenching of pure ecstasy.

  For long moments afterwards they lay entwined, their breathing slowly returning to normal, the creaking and shuddering of the bed now stilled in the sudden quiet of the room, where only moments ago all had been eager, desperate noise and movement. Sasha lay warm and glowing beside Reid as he slid to one side, lying beside her.

  Then the sound of a bell chiming in the clock tower of the Residency across the courtyard broke their intimacy. His hour for lunch had passed very swiftly, and in a most unexpected way.

  ‘I must get back.’ He rose on one elbow reluctantly, leaning over to kiss her soft, swollen mouth gently, his eyes searching her face, his fingers brushing back wayward strands of damp hair. His voice lowered as he asked, ‘Are you all right? I hope, that is…’

  Sasha smiled at his awkwardness, and stroked his forearm and then his jaw. ‘It was wonderful.’

  He smiled, rising to sit on the edge of the bed and button his shirt, tucking it into his trousers and pulling on his shoes. ‘I am sorry to rush away. I hate to leave you like this.’

  ‘It’s all right, you must get back.’
>
  He glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘I will see you later.’

  Again she nodded, and watched as he shrugged on his jacket and re-fastened his tie.

  At the door he paused and glanced back again, nodding at the scattered black lace garments. ‘Get rid of those.’

  ‘Why?’ Sasha sat up, modestly clutching the coverlet to her nakedness. ‘Did you not like them?’

  ‘They are very becoming, on a whore.’ He paused, adding firmly, ‘Not on my wife.’

  He closed the door, leaving her to mull over his words. She lay back and closed her eyes, her thoughts roaming this way and that. At last another secret of the passion between a man and a woman had been revealed to her and she felt a glowing sense of awe. She closed her eyes, hugging the pillow that still held Reid’s scent in her arms and drifted away into a warm, contented sleep. How wonderful it would be to finally make love with Reid, fully, completely!

  Later, as the afternoon shadows crept across the room, Sasha woke, rose from the bed and bathed. She dressed in afternoon clothes, a caramel-and-cream striped silk dress, with a cameo brooch fastened to the ruffles below her throat. Then she collected the scraps of black silk, the book that really no lady should ever look at, and packed them all away in their box. She stood staring at the box for some time, chewing her thumbnail, remembering Reid’s command about getting rid of them. Should she? Look at the effect the black underwear had had on Reid; despite what he’d said, she was sure that he had greatly enjoyed seeing her wear them, had certainly reacted most strongly! It seemed a shame to discard items that had given them both so much pleasure, and besides, how? She could hardly ask Jane to dispose of them; it would be far too embarrassing! She pondered for a moment on the idea of returning them to Irena, which would most definitely put her in her place and make it quite clear that neither she nor Reid were interested in her…persuasions.

  But then, reflected Sasha with a worried frown, she could not afford to invoke Irena’s displeasure; she was privy to their secrets and to anger or insult her by returning what she would consider to be gifts would be foolish. No, best just to put them away for now; she would dispose of them later, when a solution presented itself. She opened her bedroom door, peeked out, and seeing that there was no one about, she went downstairs to Reid’s study and rummaged about until she found brown paper and string. Then she returned to her bedroom, wrapped the box and tied it up securely, then stowed it in the back of her wardrobe, beneath an old skirt with an unravelled hem.

  At his desk in the Embassy building Reid surveyed the scattered paperwork and files, his mind quite distracted. The passionate encounter he had just experienced with Sasha had been unexpected in more ways than one. All he wanted to do now was return home, run up the stairs and take Sasha in his arms. He closed his eyes, stifling a groan as he thought of her naked body, how she had felt beneath him, her sweet soft breasts, her scent, her cries of pleasure, how she had felt while he’d touched her, how he longed to possess her completely, truly as man and wife… Was he being far too noble, as she had said? Did he dare to abandon his desk at this very moment and rush back to her? He had little enough to do—the role of military attaché was proving to be tedious—but even as he toyed with the scandalous idea, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. The Ambassador’s secretary, Mr Hartley, came in, his face creased with concern, as was his usual manner.

  ‘Reid, old boy, would you pop along to see Sir Stanley, please?’

  ‘Of course.’ He rose to his feet, his heart lurching for a beat or two, as his tanned complexion paled. Was he being summoned for a dressing-down? Had he and Sasha been caught out? Briskly he walked at John Hartley’s side, as though nothing in the world could be of concern to him.

  They entered the Ambassador’s office, a large room appointed with luxurious curtains and carpets and heavy, ornate furniture. Sir Stanley was sitting at his desk, perusing several documents, and he looked up at once as Reid and his secretary entered the room.

  ‘Ah, splendid.’ He waved them both to sit down, and they seated themselves on the pair of matching chairs in front of his desk. ‘Reid, I have just had a very disturbing report. It seems our Russian friends are moving men and armaments across the Caspian Sea. We are fairly certain that they are going to Afghanistan, to be used against British forces. Apparently there are several Afghan leaders here in St Petersburg, seeking to have an audience with the Tsar and further their ambitions.’

  They discussed the situation for a few moments and then Sir Stanley said, ‘We believe that the Sletovskaya woman has been entertaining them on behalf of one of her, er, um, a prince she consorts with.’

  Reid sat up, his gaze hardening as he began to see in which direction this discussion was about to go.

  ‘We need to know what’s going on, especially as our own negotiations with the Afghans have stalled.’ He gave a regretful sigh, then, ‘I’m sorry, Reid, I do appreciate you are newly married and your wife is young, but her connection to Sletovskaya is too great an opportunity to be ignored. We want you to cultivate it, get yourselves invited to her house, keep your eyes and ears open and glean whatever information you can.’

  Reid frowned. ‘Sir, I have to say I am not at all keen on the idea; the woman has the morals of an alley cat and I am reluctant to expose Sasha—’

  ‘Sasha?’

  Reid flushed. ‘I mean Georgia—Sasha is my pet name for her.’

  ‘Indeed. But this is no time to be taking the high ground, old boy, and surely a few visits to attend supper and what have you would do no great harm? Besides, it’s just a temporary assignment—the Afghans never stay away from home too long.’

  ‘But, who am I looking for?’

  ‘John’s got the profiles, names, physical descriptions—he’ll give you a briefing on exactly what the chaps look like. Obviously, it would be best if your wife knew nothing about this, she’s young and naïve and goodness knows what might inadvertently slip from her tongue. Best if you accompanied her, seeing as you speak the Afghan lingo and can listen out for any interesting titbits of information. I am sure they will not be expecting anyone there to be able to speak their language.’

  ‘I’m hardly a native speaker in either Pashto or Urdu, sir.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that, Bowen, but you’re fluent enough to understand a conversation, aren’t you? That’s one of the reasons we requested you be posted here.’ Sir Stanley shot him a piercing glance, and then continued, tight-lipped. ‘Just keep an eye out, get close to the Countess, win her confidence.’

  ‘Is that really necessary, sir?’ Reid shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not at all taken with the idea. ‘I don’t think my wife—’

  Sir Stanley sighed, with more than a touch of exasperation and annoyance. ‘Now look here, Bowen, in our line of work we quite often have to do things that we don’t much fancy, that’s what we get paid for. That’s what we get medals and honours from the Queen for.’ He ruffled some papers on his desk, picked up a fountain pen and pulled off the cap, a dismissive gesture as he pretended to turn his attention to a document, muttering gruffly, ‘Just get on with it, there’s a good chap.’

  Reid exchanged a glance with John Hartley, who shrugged and rose from his chair, indicating with a discreet flick of his hand that Reid should do the same. He followed John to the door, where he paused as Sir Stanley called out to him, ‘Good luck, and bring me something useful. By the way, where’s that report I asked you for regarding your day out with the Russian Hussars? I expect details, Bowen, we want to know just what the Russian capabilities and intentions are.’

  ‘I’m working on it, sir.’

  Sir Stanley nodded. ‘On my desk by the end of the day.’

  ‘Certainly.’

  Reid could do nothing more than utter that one word, before his clenched jaw prevented him from speaking. On the one hand, he was delighted at the prospect of getting out of the Embassy and doing something. These past weeks parked behind a desk had not been to his taste at all,
and he did not think he would last long before asking for a transfer back to an active infantry unit. But on the other hand…Countess Irena of all people! He thought about the lewd book she had given to Sasha, about the exchange between her and Sasha in the garden after luncheon a few days ago that he had observed from the window. He was in no doubt that Irena had said something to upset Sasha, and that she had not told him the whole truth about that encounter, but he had swept it under the carpet, judging the association to be at an end. Obviously, now, it was not. As he returned down the corridor to his office, he murmured in an aside to John, ‘What does he want me to do? Sleep with the woman?’

  John considered the idea and asked, ‘Would you? She’s very beautiful.’

  Reid snorted with disgust. ‘No, I most certainly would not! What do you think I am?’

  John laughed, patting him on the shoulder, as he poured oil on troubled waters. ‘Only joking. Come on, let’s go through those profiles and then you will have a good idea of who and what to look out for.’

  ‘Right. Then I’d better get cracking and write up that report.’

  ‘I hope your wife was not expecting to go out this evening? I doubt whether we will leave here much before ten.’

  ‘No.’ Reid’s reply was terse, but he sat down at his desk and tried to put all thoughts of Sasha out of his mind as he concentrated on his work.

  Sasha waited eagerly for Reid to return home. Darkness fell. It was not unusual for him to spend a good part of the evening at the Embassy, but on this occasion it seemed longer and more difficult to bear the waiting. She curled up in a chair beside the hearth, wondering if Reid felt any reluctance to return, or if it was merely pressure of work. Perhaps what had happened between them at lunchtime held no particular significance for him, whereas for her it was momentous and she longed to see him again and talk about it. Maybe Reid did not feel that way, maybe for him it had just been…a minor occurrence. Maybe he would carry on as usual, with his rather erratic hours and his devotion to his military career. She wondered if maybe what they had shared meant nothing to him; no doubt it was an experience he had often had before with other women and had very little to do with love. It had only been a desperate act of physical need, powerful and raw, the primitive responses of male and female. No words of love and devotion had passed between them. Sasha turned her face to one side and closed her eyes, as if that would block out her painful thoughts and they would not be real, causing her breath to escape sharply from between her lips, muffling the sweet agony against the palm of her hand as tears threatened to spill. How could she have been so foolish? How could she have thought for one moment that being intimate like that meant that Reid loved her?